


(he said,) tell me all your thoughts on god

by Adversarial



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Small Southern Town AU, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, It's a songfic if you squint, M/M, Southern Baptists, Underage Smoking, mentions of abuse, parental violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 00:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11369037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adversarial/pseuds/Adversarial
Summary: "What's your name?""Thomas," you said. "Do you think that cutting the worm in half will make it two worms?""I'm Tord," he said, as you sat down next to him on the sidewalk and put the worm down between you. Time to be worm surgeons. "And I think that would be the coolest thing ever."---(He smiled at you then, gentle and genuine. You weren't used to seeing this from Tord, of all people, and your heart did something painful and hopeful and desperate. You wanted...)





	(he said,) tell me all your thoughts on god

"Why are your eyes like that?"

He was standing over you, hands in his pockets, and you hunched your shoulders and looked away. 

"I dunno," you mumbled, and went back to digging for worms. They were squirmy, and slimy, and you liked the way they made weird shapes when you poked them with your stick. "Why are your eyes normal?"

Over by the jungle gym, you heard the other kindergarteners laughing at something. The boy standing over you thought about your question for a second before saying, "I dunno either." 

"My mom said that God made me like this for a reason," you replied, sitting up a little straighter, and he sat down next to you in the mud. You frowned at that. "You're gonna get in trouble for getting your shorts dirty," you warned. "The teacher's gonna yell at you."

"I don't care if the teacher yells at me," he said, puffing out his chest, and you had to admit that was pretty cool too. "Besides, I wanna see what you're doing."

That was a new one. You were used to people asking about your eyes, but you hadn't met anyone who'd wanted to play with you before. "I'm digging for worms."

"Did you know that you can cut a worm in half and it won't die?" he said, and his eyes lit up when you found a big one and poked it with your stick.

"Really?" You picked up the big worm with your fingers and inspected it, squinting. "That doesn't sound right."

"Why don't we cut it in half and find out?" He grinned at you, and you grinned back. You liked him already. "I'll get a pointy rock. C'mon, we can cut it on the sidewalk over there." 

The sidewalk was close to the jungle gym. Suddenly, you felt a lot less sure about this. 

"We'll be worm surgeons!" he said, grabbing your stick in one hand and wrist with the other. You stumbled along behind him, and you had to admit that being a worm surgeon sounded awesome. Definitely awesome enough to risk going near the jungle gym. "What's your name?"

"Thomas," you said. "Do you think that cutting the worm in half will make it two worms?"

"I'm Tord," he said, as you sat down next to him on the sidewalk and put the worm down between you. Time to be worm surgeons. "And I think that would be the coolest thing ever."

You had to agree.

\---

"Ten," you said, as another car drove by underneath you. You dangled your legs over the side of the overpass as the tenth blue car drove by under you. There weren't a lot of cars on this road; you'd have been better off counting tractors. But blue was your favorite color, so you counted the blue cars. 

"Six," said Tord. His right eye had swollen shut under a nasty shiner. He was counting the red cars, because red was his favorite color. You never understood why he liked car-counting so much, but it made him happy and you were happy if Tord was happy. Besides, your mom didn't like it when Tord came over to play at your house. 

"The devil's in that child, Thomas," she'd told you, still fixing her makeup. She'd already put on her sparkly dress, the one she always wore when she went out late at night. "The pastor's wife caught him ripping the legs off flies and laughing." 

"But he's nice to me," you'd argued, as she finished checking her makeup and started to tuck you into bed. 

"We'll talk about it more in the morning, sweetie," she'd said. She kissed your forehead. "Now get some sleep. Mommy will be back before midnight."

You'd wound up never asking her about it again, but you hadn't stopped playing with Tord, either.

"Seven," he said. The car roared through the overpass, going at least twenty miles above the speed limit. "Wonder where he's going in such a hurry."

"Hey, Tord?"

"Yeah?" 

"Did it hurt? When the big kid hit you?" One of the fifth graders had been making fun of your eyes again. He'd made the mistake of doing it in front of Tord.

"Nah, and besides. Did you see the look on his face when I bit him?" Tord smiled, and for a second there you saw a bit of the devil your mom had warned you about, sort of like that one time last year when you and Tord got into a fight and he ripped the eyes off your teddy bear. You tugged on the chain that held your little silver cross around your neck, wondered if maybe your best friend needed it more than you did. 

"You didn't have to do that, Tord." He'd gotten detention for the next two weeks, the first time a second grader had ever gotten detention in your school's history. Tord had seemed proud of himself when he'd left the principal's office.

"He was being mean to you. No one's allowed to be mean to my friend." He stared down at the road, at where his feet dangled next to yours. "Blue car."

"Eleven," you said. "Hey, that's our teacher's car, I think."

"How do you know what her car looks like?" 

"I saw her leaving when I was waiting for you to get out of detention." You'd waited two hours for him so that you could walk home together like always. Your mom had been angry with you when you'd gotten home late. "She's got the wood stuff on the side of her car."

"Panelling?"

"I think that's what it's called, yeah." 

Your mom had gone quiet when you'd told her why Tord was in detention. "There's nothing wrong with your eyes, Thomas," she'd said softly, the way she always did. "God made you this way for a reason."

Another blue car reached the overpass.

"Twelve."

\---

"You can't leave for the summer," you'd argued. "Who's gonna help me build The Fortress?"

The Fortress was Tord's name for the treehouse you'd been planning to build with him since third grade. Over the past two years, you had kept adding more and more parts to the design (helicopter pad! a second floor! tord's super secret laboratory!) until your blueprint was nearly impossible to read. This was the summer that you were supposed to finally start construction.

"My dad insisted, Tom." Tord refused to meet your eyes. "You're gonna have to build it without me." 

What neither of you were saying: Tord has no friends in Norway. You have no friends here. Summer was supposed to be the best part of your year, but this one was shaping up to be the worst.

"How am I supposed to build all of that myself? It's impossible." You missed him already.

"You'll figure something out." You were on the verge of storming off when he said, "Tom, wait."

"What?"

"Do you..." He trailed off. "Nevermind. It's stupid."

"Do I what?" 

He glanced away for a second before giving you a painfully hopeful look. "Do you wanna be blood brothers?" 

"Like the thing with the-" you mime cutting open your palm, and he nods. You have no idea why he was nervous to ask. "Of course I do."

So you met him at the overpass once the sun went down, after his parents were asleep and your mother had left for the night. He had the biggest, sharpest kitchen knife he could find. You'd brought the twine. 

"Do you want to go first?" he asked, and you didn't want to look like a wuss so you snatched the knife from him and cut a long, deep gash down your palm before handing it back. He wiped the blade off on his jeans before doing the same. 

Awkwardly, you tied his hand to yours with the twine, eyes prickling with tears when your open wounds rubbed together. "How long do we need to keep them like this?"

"I have no idea," he said, so you twined your fingers with his and waited up with him until dawn just started to break.

He left the next morning, and you spent the summer waiting by the pay phone at the drug store, burning all your quarters on long-distance calls to Norway as your palm slowly healed.

\---

"What happened to your face?"

It was nearing dusk when Tord finally showed up outside the Seven-11, an hour later than he said he would get there. You were prepared to cuss him out for making you wait, but the second you saw his bruises you got a sinking feeling in your gut. 

"My _father_ ," Tord spat the word like he wanted nothing to do with it, "has decided that I am apparently an ungrateful little swine unworthy of the family name." 

"Well, you kind of are," you remarked, and Tord snorted. You'd started high school two weeks ago and had already fallen easily into the dickish humor that your upperclassmen seemed so fond of. "But that doesn't mean that he can just beat you up like that."

"I'll get him back for this someday. He'll see." Tord was getting the look that he got sometimes, the one that made you think back to when your mother used to call him a devil child, and you changed the subject before he could get too deep into his thoughts of vengeance. 

"Did you finish the math homework yet? I have no idea what's going on in algebra, I swear to God." You relished the usage of the Lord's name in vain. Your mom would probably beat you if she heard.

Tord headed to the door of the Seven-11 and you follow him in, going immediately to grab the sodas while Tord went for the Cheetos. You had this down to a science.

"Yeah, I got it. Algebra isn't that hard," he called from the other side of the store. The cashier glared at him, earning herself Tord's token smirk.

"Speak for yourself, douche. Not all of us can get tested for the Gifted and Talented program or whatever," you shout back as you open the cooler to snatch your two colas. You tried to keep the jealousy out of your voice, but you knew that you probably failed when you saw the look on Tord's face. "Hey. You know I didn't mean it like that."

He met up with you at the checkout, Cheetos in hand, eyes averted. "Tom, do you know why my father and I were fighting?"

"Because your dad's an ass?" Tord looks pensive, bruises a nasty shade of purple. He pulls out his wallet and swipes his father's credit card to pay for the snacks. 

"I deliberately failed the G&T test today. I solved all of the problems correctly and then chose the wrong answers on purpose. I made a perfect zero, which is actually less than I would have made if I'd guessed on all of them randomly."

"But... Why?" Tord took the bag of junk food and started heading for the door as you trailed behind him, lost. "Tord, we both know you're a genius. You should be in those classes."

"You're really smart too, Tom," he said, and you both knew that he was dodging the question. "Dyslexia doesn't change that."

"I'm not on your level, Tord," you replied, and he sinks down on the curb outside of the convenience store. You join him. "Why'd you do it?"

"We wouldn't be in the same classes if I was in G&T," he finally admitted, and you wanted to punch him for throwing away his chance to take classes that weren't stupidly easy. Except, if you were being honest with yourself, you'd probably have done the same thing in his place.

"You're an idiot," you sighed, but he just grinned at you. You pass him a soda, offer up a toast. "To being in Algebra 1 together."

"Cheers," he said, clinking the plastic bottles together, and you laughed. 

"You wanna come over and play video games or something? That creepy movie producer's back in town, so Mom will probably be out late."

Tord gave you a sly look. "Actually, I had another idea." You quirked an eyebrow and he continued. "Something good came out of the fight with my father." 

He fished around in the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out two fancy-looking cigars. Your other eyebrow shot up as well. "You didn't. Those cost a fortune."

"Oh, but I did," he laughed. "Want a smoke?"

"I've never smoked a cigar before." You'd never smoked anything before, but Tord didn't have to know that. 

"Me neither, but it can't be that hard, right?" He dug into his pocket again, produced a disposable lighter. "Here, put one in your mouth and I'll light it for you." 

You did as he said, biting down on the cigar while he fiddled with the lighter. When he finally managed to light it up, you inhaled deeply.

You choked. 

"Holy shit, Tom!" Tord patted you on the back as you continued to cough. The cigar fell out of your mouth and onto the sidewalk. "You okay?"

"That was-" you hacked aggressively for a moment before continuing, "- _gross_."

Tord grabbed the still-lit cigar off the pavement, laughing as he brings it to his lips. He took a long drag before also beginning to choke, doubling over as he coughed up smoke. 

"Did you seriously take the cigar I spit out and put it in your mouth?" you asked, incredulous. "Also, see? I told you it was nasty." 

"Wait, wait. I've got this," Tord said, as he finished coughing. He took another pull, this time only choking slightly on the exhale. You gave him a sarcastic round of applause and he punched you lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, it's still better than you did." 

"Pass it back, c'mon. My turn," you said, and he blew a mouthful of smoke into your face before passing you the cigar. You snickered, took a better drag, and exhaled it just as he took a breath. He sputtered and you fell backwards laughing.

By the time you left the Seven-11 for home, the two of you had worked your way through both cigars and Tord had promised that he'd find a way to get his hands on more.

\---

"What the fuck, Tord?" You were hiding in the break room, hissing into your phone. "I'm at work! We're taking inventory today!"

"Tom, please. My phone's about to die. I'm sorry, just-" you could hear him pacing on the other end, knew that he was probably yanking his hair out while he did. "I fucked up, okay? I know I fucked up." 

You rifled through your backpack, digging for your car keys. You desperately needed to keep this job. "You sure as shit did, dude. How far are you from the center of town?"

"You're coming?" He sounded too defeated to get his hopes up and something about that crushed you, just a little. 

"Of course I am, you fuck. Where are you?"

"Thank you so much, Tom. Fuck, I have no clue where this guy dropped me. Let me find a street sign." You were already planning what you would say to your mother when you got fired from your third job in as many months. Apologies didn't buy groceries. "I'm about ten miles away from Everett?"

"Everett? Like, two hours away Everett? Fucking hell, Tord." Did you have enough gas to make it out to him? Did you have enough money to pay for the gas you'd need to get back? "We have class tomorrow, remember?Our ecology project is due tomorrow, fuck-"

"I'm really sorry, Tom."

You sighed, rubbed at your temples. You could feel the beginnings of a migraine coming on. "Let me just... Try to see if Laurel can cover for me. I'll be on the road in ten minutes, tops."

"Thank you." You could hear Tord sitting down in the grass, wherever he was. "I really don't know what I'd do without you, Tom." 

"Save the asskissing for when my ass is within kissing distance. I'll be there soon." You hung up and went looking for your coworker.

By the time you found Tord, it was approaching sunset. You pulled over to the side of the road next to where he was laying in the grass, head pillowed by his backpack. He sat up when he heard you walking over to him, still in your Wal-Mart employee uniform, and you nearly retched when you saw the right side of his face. 

"What the fuck did he _do_ to you?" 

He laughed without humor, that laugh of his that made you include him in your prayers on the rare nights when you still prayed. You thought that one of his front teeth might have been chipped. "Nothing new, I can tell you that." He saw the look on your face and softened a little. "Hey, it's fine. Really. I'm used to it."

"Were you trying to..." You realized that his bag was packed to the bursting point and noticed the socks he stuffed in the side pockets. 

"The guy I hitched a ride with brought me all the way out here and robbed me. I have no cash, but he was kind enough to leave me my phone and ID," Tord said, and his evasion was all the confirmation you needed. "I still have my father's card, if he hasn't canceled it, so I can pay you back for gas. And, because I can see that we're about to commence our usual argument, I will cut you off now and say that the foster system is an abysmal place to put a sixteen-year-old and that my parents are perfectly capable of lying to CPS." 

"I was going to ask if you needed a place to spend the night," you muttered, and he gave you a lopsided grin.

"I've heard the underside of the overpass is nice this time of year," he said, as you pull him to his feet and push him towards the car. 

"You can crash with me for the night. We can finish off that ecology project," you argued, coming around to the driver's side. Tord was already messing with the radio, turning it up high. You turned it back down. "Stop using my sound system to avoid talking about your problems."

"If you insist," he sighed, putting his hands up. His face looked worse closer-up. "But you know I can't stay with you. Your mother is still trying to exorcise me."

"Stay quiet and sneak out the window in the morning. It'll be fine," you told him, with a conviction your didn't feel. You started the engine and headed for home, Tord staring out the window.

"I think this is the farthest I've made it," he admitted quietly. "Almost to Everett." 

"Two more years until you go to college, right? You can go as far away as you want then." You were looking at the road signs, searching for a gas station. You could patch up his face at the convenience store. 

"We," he corrected. "Two years until we go to college." 

"My grades aren't anything special, Tord. I'm not getting in anywhere besides the community college and it makes more sense for me to just work right out of school." 

"If you'd just let me help you-" he began, and you cut him off. 

"For the last time, I'm not cheating on my tests. Besides, I couldn't afford college even if-"

"-it's not cheating, Tom, it's leveling the playing field-"

"-my mother would have a heat attack if-"

"Fine. Fine. Just," Tord closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Do you have any cigarettes?"

"Check the glove compartment. Pass me one if you find any." You see a gas station coming up in ten miles, resolve to pull off and clean up his face. 

"Menthols? Christ, Tom." He shook the carton. "There's only one left." 

"I'm not opposed to sharing if you're not," you said, and he laughed as he lit up.

"Just like old times?" he asked, taking a puff and passing you the cigarette. 

"Just like old times," you echoed. "Now let's pull on over and fix up your face."

You dragged him into the gas station restroom with a five-dollar first aid kit, covered him in Micky Mouse band-aids and Neosporin under halogen lights.

"I'm going to kill him someday, Tom," he whispered, as you cleaned off dried blood with wet toilet paper. "My self-control is wearing thin." 

"Don't say shit like that." You added another Band-Aid. "There. Your face is officially fixed." 

He turned to look in the mirror, snickered when he realized why you'd been hiding the band-aid box from him until now. You pulled a wisp of grass out of his hair, threw it in the toilet. 

"I know I've said it already, but thank you. Not just for this but for... Everything, you know?" Tord said, and you waved him off.

"You've done plenty for me. Consider it karma," you said. "Now c'mon. Let's head back to my place and get some sleep."

The drive home was mostly dominated by the radio, which was fine by you. You snuck him into your house with little trouble, lent him clothes and let him shower while you rushed through your half of the ecology project. 

"What's a biome, again?" you mused as he threw himself into your bed. "Fuck. Whatever. I can take the L on this one."

"School's in six and a half hours, Tom. If you want to sleep, get on over here." You dropped your pencil with a grimace. He didn't know that you were failing ecology. He didn't have to know, if you could just drag your goddamn grade up, but between classes and work and everything with your mom- "Get over here, you fuck."

You grumbled, turned out the lights and curled up next to him. You'd never shared a bed with someone before. 

"Christ, you're like a space heater," Tord stage-whispered, and you had to muffle your laughter to make sure that you didn't wake your mother. 

"Speak for yourself," you retorted, rolling over and coming face-to-face with him. In the dark, you could just barely make out the Mickey Mouse band-aids. He smiled at you then, gentle and genuine. You weren't used to seeing from Tord, of all people, and your heart did something painful and hopeful and desperate. You wanted...

He kissed you. 

"That was thanks. For today, and for all the days before it," he mumbled, breath hot on your face. You thought back to the cigar smoke, how his face had been bruised but bright, and how nothing has really changed, all these years. "I'm sorry about losing you your job."

You couldn't find your words for a second, so his eyes were already closed when you finally replied, "there's no need to keep thanking me."

"You didn't like it?" he asked, rueful, and he was just so fucking obstinate, sometimes, it was a miracle that you still-

That you still-

Fuck.

You kissed him back.

He made a sound of surprise before pressing against you, and for a moment all you could think was that he tasted like your cigarettes. 

Tomorrow, you would help him sneak out the window and see him for classes and pretend that your school years were normal school years and you would come home and tell your mother that you'd lost your job and he'd go home to his father and-

He pulled away, studied you carefully. "I can hear you overthinking this from here. At least wait until tomorrow night." 

"I was thinking about how you didn't brush your teeth," you quipped, and he smiled again, the genuine one.

"If you say so." He slung an arm over you. "You should get some sleep."

You did.

\---

"Fifty-three," he called, when you finally found him at the overpass. "Want to count the blues?"

"You've been avoiding me," you said, and he gave you a guilty shrug. "Tord, did you get into college or not?"

"Fifty-four," he said, and you sank down next to him. He caught your wrist, slipped his hand into yours. He'd been doing that more and more lately. "Come on, count with me." 

"I won't judge you if you didn't get in anywhere, promise. I didn't even apply," you reassured, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. You knew that you were shit at being reassuring, but fuck if you weren't going to try.

"You know," he sighed, still not looking at you. "Back when we were kids? I used to hate leaving town. Because no matter where I went, it was never quite right, you know? There are Seven-11's in every town, but none of them are quite the same. There are overpasses, but none of them are quite so fun to count cars on."

He had a larger point here, but you couldn't quite grasp it yet. "One," you replied, as a blue car went by underneath you.

He snorted. "That's the spirit. So I thought it was this town for the longest time, right? But then I realized that no, it's the opposite. I'm stuck in this town, this dead-end town in the middle of nowhere. So I tried running. I assumed that maybe if I left, everything would be a little clearer. If I got away from my insolent _fuck_ of a father-" his hand clenched tight in yours for a moment before relaxing, "that maybe everything would make a little more sense. Fifty-five," he said. 

"You've lost me," you sighed. "Come on, Tord. Try again, but this time in plain English for us non-geniuses." 

"I'm getting there, I'm getting there. Let me build to my dramatic reveal," he said, and it was your turn to snort. "So I ran. And every time, something went wrong. Either I didn't pack well, or my train ticket was for the wrong train, or I got robbed while trying to hitchhike, or I couldn't catch a ride at all. And you were always there to pick me up, right?" He paused for a moment. "You were always there. And then I started thinking, you know, while drunk, that maybe it wasn't the town that had been keeping me here when I was young, and maybe it wasn't bad luck keeping me from leaving. Drunk me thought, well, maybe I was self-sabotaging my own escape plans, because there was still something here for me. Something I can't live without, not in any of the ways that matter, at least."

You spotted a blue car, but you couldn't interrupt him now. "What was it?"

He gave you an incredulous look. "Do you really not get it?"

"I don't-"

"Oh my God, it's _you_ , you ass. I need _you_." He looked out over the overpass. "Fuck. I wanted that to be a dramatic moment. Building to the revelation. I had the speech planned out and everything. You ruined it, you fuck," he said, and he dropped his head onto your shoulder. "You're the worst romantic I've ever met." 

"What can I say? You made me crisis over my sexuality on at least three distinct occasions. It's your turn to suffer now," you said. You pointed at a blue car passing by underneath you. "That one's three. I didn't count two, but it was there."

"How was that? The sexuality crises, I mean." He was less boisterous now. You thought for a second that he was going to pull away from you, so you gave his hand the best reassuring squeeze you could. 

"It, uh. Went on for a while. Still somewhat ongoing, to tell the truth." You had never realized it, but you could see the old elementary school from up here. "Don't know if I'll ever fully get over the 'homosexuality is a sin' thing. Mom beat that horse pretty dead, and-"

"Are you-"

"Let me finish, you douchecanoe-"

"Oh, that's a good one-"

"-I was saying that I've reconsidered a lot of stuff and. Yeah. This. Us. This is good. Good stuff." Nice. "I'm homosexual for you. Just give me some time before asking me to jack you off and I should be good."

"I'm perfectly alright with this," he said, moving to nuzzle your neck. "For a second there, I thought you were breaking up with me."

"Were we dating? You fuck, you forgot to tell me." He started laughing, and it felt good to have him there, with you. It felt like something inside you that had always been slightly off-kilter was finally righted. "Okay, but you never told me about college admissions."

Tord sobered at that. "Truth is, Tom, I got in everywhere I applied." 

"Holy shit, dude!" You swiveled your neck to face him and got a mouthful of his hair for your efforts. Physical intimacy would take some getting used to. "That's incredible! You applied to some of the best schools in the country, fuck-"

"My father is a very important man. I'm sure that had something to do with it. But you're missing the point." He moved his hand, wiggled it around in yours until your fingers were laced with his. "Tom, I can't just leave you here." 

That was when it finally hit you. That there would be no time to get used to the physical intimacy. No time to figure out how much he was joking when he said that you were dating, no time to decide if maybe you wanted that to really mean something.

It wasn't fucking fair.

"You got it, didn't you? Just then," he said, and he pulled away so that he could look you in the eye. "Tom, please. I don't know where I'm going yet, but I need you to come with me."

"My entire life is here, Tord. My mom-" You were trying so hard to justify leaving with him to yourself, to find a way to make things workable. "I can't-"

"We have the rest of senior year and all summer before you us need to decide on anything," he interrupted. "If I wind up in a city, you will be able to find a job that would be higher-paying than anything here. You could send money back to your mother and visit periodically if you wanted." He was doing that thing again, the one where he used all of his considerable intellect to make things sound reasonable, and that wasn't what you needed right now.

"I need time, Tord. I need to see if I can uproot my entire life. I've never left this town, you know that? Never in my life."

"That doesn't mean-"

You cut him off. "No, listen to me. It's different for me to leave than it is for you. It's scarier, and it's harder, and I need you to understand that I might not be able to do it, but I am going to try. I'm going to try because-" oh, fuck it, "because I love you, alright? I can't make any promises and the fact that I just said that is scaring the shit out of me, but it's true and I _need your patience while I figure my shit out_." 

You took a deep breath and he was looking at you like you'd just told him that he'd won the lottery and you have no idea how the fuck you will make this work but God, do you want to. 

"I think," he said slowly, "that I might spontaneously combust if I don't kiss you right now." 

"Melodramatic fu-" He interrupted you with a kiss so wild that it literally bowled you over, and you laughed into his mouth as he kissed you again and again and you thought, before he brought you back down to Earth, that this might be the best day of your life.

\---

You sat on top of the jungle gym, strumming your bass. You'd picked it up at the pawn shop two weeks ago, a shitty checkered monstrosity that you had fallen instantly in love with. You were pretty sure that Tord was getting jealous.

He was sitting at the base of the play structure, leaned against a bar as he filled out college paperwork on his laptop. The two of you had taken to hanging around the elementary school playground after school had let out each day. No one was around to ask questions if Tord snuck a kiss or twenty.

"How the hell are you getting wifi out here, anyways," you called down to him, clumsily picking out the bass line to some Ozzie song that you really only listened to for the cool bass line. "Don't you need to like... Be near a modem?"

"Well, you see," he said, not looking up from whatever it was that he was doing on his computer, "when you're an evil genius like me, you can steal other people's wifi." 

"That feels illegal." 

"Only slightly."

You snickered and went back to playing your bass. The fingertips of your left hand hurt, but you were already starting to develop callouses. "Question."

"Shoot, babe."

"What do I name my bass?"

"Well, you could name it Tord." You looked down to see him grinning up at you. "Because I sure as hell want you to finger me like you finger that thing."

"You're a little shit," you laughed, chucking your pick at him and just barely missing his head. "I can't believe I'm dating you. How did I let my standards drop so low?"

"Well, I'm certainly grateful for it. Here's to low standards," he said, before his expression turned serious. "I'm about to click accept for Boston University."

"Sounds like a plan. Boston, huh?"

"There's a lot of work to be found for unskilled laborers over there and there's a community college nearby in case you decide to go back to school." He saw your hesitance. "Do you think you could live in Boston?"

"I mean, I guess so. It sounds like you've got it all figured out." When Tord put it that way, the entire thing just felt a little more... Possible. Less like a dream, more like an impending reality. You had no idea how you were going to explain this to your mother.

"I really want this to work, Tom," he said slowly. You checked the strap of your bass, climbed down the jungle gym to sit next to him. He was staring blankly at the admissions page. You had a feeling he'd been doing that for a while. "I really, really want this to work."

"It'll all work out, I promise," you said. "One way or another. We'll make it work." 

"Yeah," he said. You weren't sure that he believed it. You weren't sure that you did, either. Still, he moved his cursor to hover over the accept button. "Do you want to do the honors?"

You did.

\---

You woke with a start to the sound of someone pounding on the front door. When you stumbled over to answer it, wearing only your boxers, you had no idea what to expect. 

Tord was standing there, wild-eyed, breathing hard. He had his backpack, overstuffed the way it had always been when-

Wait.

"Tom. We need to go." He elbowed past you into the house, heading immediately to your room. "Pack your shit. Only the essentials. We're leaving for Boston now."

"Tord, what the fuck has gotten into you?" You rubbed sleep out of your eyes as he threw your backpack at you, narrowly missing your face. "Tord!"

"Tom, we've got to go-"

You dropped the backpack, grabbed him by the shoulders, and looked him in the eyes. His chest was heaving wildly and it looked like he was going to try to claw your hands off for a moment before he forcibly relaxed. "Care to tell me what the fuck is going on? Because we weren't supposed to be leaving for another two months."

"I shot my father," he said, and you still hadn't processed that statement when he continued, "just in the arm, nothing fatal, but he'll be after me, Tom, he threatened to kill my mother and he had a knife and he was going to kill me and I shot him-"

"You shot him?" 

"Tom, please..." You let go of him and he stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists. "I know I promised you another two months, but I'm terrified of him and more terrified of what I'll do if he corners me." 

You still hadn't told your mother about leaving. She was out for the night, wouldn't be back until morning at the earliest. You needed more time.

But. 

Tord needed you.

You could only hope to God that you wouldn't regret this.

"It'll take me a few minutes to pack. Do you have a car? Are we driving to Boston?"

The tension drained out of him instantly, and he fell backwards onto your bed. "I have a car and train tickets. We have an hour and a half to get to the station. It's a ten-minute drive."

Right. Okay. You could work with that. You had to believe that you could work with that.

"I can be ready to go in five." 

You would write a note to your mother, you decided. You had no idea what it would say. _Going to Boston with my boyfriend. Will visit for holidays. Expect check in the mail._

You settled for a half-truth. _God called me to do something different with my life. Left for the city. Expect a check in the mail. All my love._ You hung it on the fridge with a magnet, tried to ignore the sudden vertigo you got when you realized that you were done packing.

You didn't realize how few items were necessary in your life until you had fit them all neatly into your backpack. 

"Is there anything else that's essential? We can't come back after this," Tord warned. 

"Can I bring Susan?" 

Tord pulled a face. "Who the fuck is Susan?"

"My bass, you asshole. I had to name her myself after you kept making all of those shitty jokes." 

Tord gave you a histrionic groan, finally starting to lose some of the terrified prey-animal vibe that he'd been giving off all night. "Fine, but I still don't get why you didn't name her Tord."

"She's a girl, you jackass," you said, grabbing your bass case and shouldering your backpack. "Now let's go."

You spared a glance back to your childhood home while Tord helped you load the trunk. You were more nostalgic than you'd thought you would be.

"Do you want a second?" Tord wrapped an arm around your waist. "I know that I'm asking a lot of you, and I'm sorry about that." 

"I think I'm done," you said, "and do me a favor and try to refrain from shooting your father again in the future."

"No promises," he said, as you climbed into his car and began to drive.

You stared silently out the window as you passed through the town you'd spent your entire life in. The playground where you met Tord for the first time, all those years ago. The Seven-11. The overpass. The Wal-Mart that you only managed to work at for three weeks. Your old high school. 

"It's not a bad town," you mumbled. "I'm gonna miss it."

"Yeah." 

"Hey, Tord. Remember that time when we were kids and we were playing out by the gas station? And you pretended to be a super-villain, and I was the hero who foiled all your evil schemes?"

"I make for a better villain than hero, I guess," he said, and you saw his smirk reflecting in the red glare of the stoplight.

"You're definitely my hero," you said, just to be a sap, and you were pretty sure he blushed at that. Could have been a trick of the light.

You arrived at the train station, drag yourselves into what is basically a glorified rain shelter. You sat down on the bench, rested your head on Tord's shoulder and passed out until he gently shook you awake, and now.

Now you're leaving this town with him.

"Last chance to back out," he's whispering, and you kiss him your reassurances.

"To Boston?"

He smiles, and yes, you chose correctly. This is where you are supposed to be. 

"To Boston."

**Author's Note:**

> "and he said,  
> tell me all your thoughts on god  
> 'cause i'd really like to meet her  
> and ask her why we're who we are.
> 
> tell me all your thoughts on god  
> 'cause i'm on my way to see her  
> so tell me, am i very far?  
> am i very far, now?"
> 
> \---
> 
> I wrote this entire fic over the course of two plane rides while listening to Counting Blue Cars by Dishwalla on loop for six hours instead of working on TTB. I hope y'all are entertained. 
> 
> Thanks as always to my beautiful beta, @jinxedlucky, for putting up with my bullshit writing habits. Feel free to reach out to me at @idiosyncraticmagic on tumblr!
> 
> Leafera, if you're reading this, your request fic is done and will be posted as soon as I'm on the same continent as my laptop again.


End file.
